


The Ties That Bind

by quiznakeries



Series: Sheith wedding softness shit [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, M/M, Season 8 doesn’t exist, Sheith anniversary 2020, cultural heritage, kolivan teaches keith about braids, wedding day preparations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiznakeries/pseuds/quiznakeries
Summary: “To have a superior officer prepare one for their tying of bonds used to be a tradition of great value, before the war.” He says eventually, breaking eye contact to fiddle with a black sash among the robes he brought. “I’m hardly your superior any longer, and it is more historical trivia than tradition by now-“Keith watches as Kolivan walks over to where he stands, huge hands cradling the silky fabric in offering. “But perhaps you would like to indulge me.”
Relationships: Keith & Kolivan (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Kolivan/Krolia (Voltron), Kolivan/oc
Series: Sheith wedding softness shit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084484
Comments: 29
Kudos: 81





	The Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monstersinthecosmos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstersinthecosmos/gifts).



> Thanks to Kacy who tweeted about Kolivan helping Keith prepare for his wedding, it ruined me 🥺
> 
> It’s soft o’clock guys

Keith swirls the remaining champagne in his glass, absentmindedly watching the fading bubbles fizz out. He can’t really pinpoint what he’s feeling, but he knows himself. When it’s too much at once, it’s like he puts a lid on it, be it good or bad.

He’s definitely done that now, strangely calm and verging on unfeeling.

Hunk just took off to check on something with the kitchen staff. Or at least that what he said, but Keith is pretty sure his friend figured he needed a moment to himself.

He wouldn’t be wrong.

They’re at an old mansion that somehow survived the war. It acts as the new Galran embassy on earth since a year back, just half an hour from the Garrison. It’s turned into an intriguing mix of Earth and Daibazaal cultures, strings of both running through the design of each room. 

It feels like home, even if he’s never more than visited for a couple of hours before. 

Over the past few years, he’s spent most of his time on Daibazaal or on a Galran ship. He’s adapted to and come to love his mother’s home world more than he ever thought he could.

But earth has always been his home, and it’s a new kind of satisfying to see both worlds meet and mix as effortlessly as this room he’s in. Warm grey and maroon, a holographic painting of the new Daibazaal palace, and the size of the furniture gives away the galras influence on the design. The old building has tall ceilings fitting for the mixed sizes of their species. But beneath the new paint, Victorian moldings that are so typically human gives the room its unique vibe. The heavy curtains, the frames on the art, the hard wood floors. There’s history there, heritage.

They shouldn’t, but the two meet beautifully.

It’s beyond anything he could have hoped for before the war ended, better than any outcome he could have conjured.

And almost too corny in its symbolism, today.

Something warm that definitely isn’t the champagne flutters to life in his stomach, a small smile tugging on his lips for no one to see.

Just down the hall, a couple of doors down, Shiro is probably climbing the walls.

Neither of them have ever been very good with feelings, much less expressing them in front of others. Keith knows Shiro is probably going stir crazy now when he can’t act out his nerves by running laps. He knows because he thought he would be the same. He was so sure he’d be pacing the room, trying to keep himself together.

But he’s not.

Because it’s so much more than nerves at play, so many thoughts and emotions all ready to spill over once he opens up to them.

Difference is, compared to when he first met Shiro all those years ago, the feeling doesn’t scare him anymore.

He’s glad he isn’t freaking out, sure. But mostly he’s glad to know he can let go if he wants to. There are people in his life to meet him warmly when his feelings come pouring out. Someone to soothe him when his temper flares. Catch him when he loses balance.

Friends. Family.

Shiro.

The smile on his face clings. 

He’s just leaning over in his seat to set the glass down, when there’s a rap of knuckles on the door.

“Keith?”

Keith blinks, brought out of his head by Kolivan’s voice. The magnetic door makes a whooshing sound as it slides open, revealing his old mentor and leader standing with a heap of textiles hanging off his arm. Keith rises to his feet, looking over Kolivan’s shoulder.

“Where’s mom?”

“Krolia will be coming in a little later.” Kolivan says, carefully spreading the textiles over the flat surface of a table. “I asked to have this moment with you.”

Keith’s eyes snap to catch Kolivan’s gaze. The warmth in his belly burns a little hotter. “Really?”

He mentally slaps himself for sounding like a child getting a surprise present, but it really can’t be helped. Over the years, Kolivan has become the closest Keith has to a second parent, something he’s greatly appreciated. Especially after he noticed the spark between the former blade leader and his own mother. They’re not quite there yet, but if even Keith can tell it’s there - everyone else in this universe probably noticed as well.

Kolivan gives him a long look, and as always it’s hard to tell what the guy is thinking. Keith waits.

“To have a superior officer prepare one for their tying of bonds used to be a tradition of great value, before the war.” He says eventually, breaking eye contact to fiddle with a black sash among the robes he brought. “I’m hardly your superior any longer, and it is more historical trivia than tradition by now-“

Keith watches as Kolivan walks over to where he stands, huge hands cradling the silky fabric in offering. “But perhaps you would like to indulge me.”

Keith takes the sash, notices the almost invisible embroidery along its rim. He was prepared to be brought wedding robes, had talked to his mother months ago about how he was unsure what to wear and told that there was something of Galran tradition he could go with. She showed him photos, and he’d known then they were what he wanted.

He was not, however, prepared for this.

“I’d love to.” He says, quietly but surely.

He thinks he sees a hint of a smile on Kolivan’s mostly expressionless face, and it’s sweet somehow. He’s flattered, and happy, that he man has taken the initiative, or even thought of him at all in this context.

~*~

  
  


The robes are similar to those worn by the Blade of Marmoras leaders in design, but significantly less built for combat. The shoulder pieces are the only hard part, but even they are clad in something that reminds Keith of velvet. The ensemble is black and grey, with dark blue accents. The fabric clings to his waist, making it appear even more narrow than usual. The tightness and the shoulder pieces makes his straighten his posture without discomfort, and over his legs long strips of heavy fabric run from hip to knee, front and back. Under them are a pair of fitted trousers, seamlessly merging with the sleek boots.

He looks himself over in the full length mirror, turning this way and that. It’s different from anything he’s worn before, something created wholly for something festive, something designed to make him look good.

Keith’s never worn so much as a blazer in his  _ life _ .

It’s odd to see, and to feel. But he likes it. Shiro has told him for a long time that he’s beautiful, and he never bothered to fight him on that. But he never saw what Shiro meant, or what he sees in Keith.

He feels a little closer to understanding, now.

Kolivan comes to stand behind him, with the sash from before at the ready. Keith meets his eye in the mirror and nods. 

It’s strangely loaded, the brief act of his past leader wrapping the cloth over his shoulder and around his waist, to tie it at the small of his back.

It feels significant. Important.

“Thank you.” Keith says, voice warm. He traces the pattern on the sash again with his fingertips. “This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Kolivan turns away from Keith’s reflection, reaching for the hair brush sitting among Keith’s things. Keith unties his hair from the sloppy ponytail he usually keeps it in, shaking the locks loose over his shoulders. 

Kolivan’s hands alone are larger than his head, but he works through the strands with unexpectedly gentle movements.

Keith loves this, having his hair played with. He has no clue how many times he’s dozed off to Shiro running his fingers through Keith’s hair at night, or asked Shiro to wash his hair.l for him.

It’s a vulnerable thing he’s learned to love.

Kolivan brushes his hair back, straightening it out as best as possible. It reaches a few inches between his shoulder blades in length by now.

When Kolivan switches the brush for a comb and begins to split his hair into parts, a comfortable silence has fallen between them.

Keith let’s his eyes flutter closed, letting his friend start to braid thin strips of purple and blue ribbon into each part. 

It goes on for a few more minutes, before Kolivan speaks behind him.

“Do you know what the braid represents, in old tradition?”

Keith opens his eyes to peer at Kolivan, but the man is too focused on his work to meet his gaze. “I have no idea.”

Kolivan hums knowingly, he probably figured as much. “In the days of old, the Galra would braid their hair in honor of their love, and their bond. Once the bonding has been done, they let their hair grow as to show proof of their time together. Once married, they never cut their hair again. This tradition was altered over time, to keeping only parts at their full length. The braid was just as much to protect their hair in battle as it was a token of how they were forever intertwined with their spouse. Some braided only for special occasions, and some kept their braid in place always.”

Keith listens intently, tries to imagine the Galra before the war, expressing their love in such a way. Maybe some wore detailed or decorated ones, with ribbons and beads and pearls. He sees old couples with hair past their knees after a long life of happy marriage.

A thought hits him, and he frowns.

“Only married Galra wear their hair in braids?”

Kolivan slows his hands, simply holding the strands between his fingers.

“That was the concept.”

“And now?”

Kolivan looks at him, and Keith is startled by the open sadness he sees in him. “Very few practice this tradition today.” He says. “But you are correct to come to the conclusion I am one of them.”

Keith’s mouth falls open in surprise, bottom lip slack as he stares at the man he thought he knew better than he apparently does.

“I lost her many decaphoebs ago.” Kolivan offers in explication. “She was with the blade, just as you and I.”

Kolivan is back to braiding, working slowly as he continues to talk. “I have kept my braid in her memory, and as a reminder of what has been lost.”

“What was she like?” Keith fiddles with the sash, unsure of what to do with himself now. He knows what it’s like losing the one you love. He’s lost Shiro more than once. But that was before he had any of this, back in a time when he thought he never would. He can’t picture losing Shiro now that he has him, now that his heart is with Keith just as much as Keith’s with him. It just can’t happen. 

Kolivan, surprisingly, chuckles. “I’ll tell you all about her one day. But for now-“

Keith feels the weight of the braid drop against his back.

“For now I think you have more cheerful things to focus on.”

Keith brings a hand behind his head, and drapes the braid over his shoulder for inspection. It’s flawless, intricate, with the accents of color bringing it to life. At the end sits a metal pin in the tie, a simple triangle with a small flower engraved within. 

It’s simple, but regal.

He turns to Kolivan, who puts a large hand on Keith’s shoulder. His smile is wide and unhidden, this time.

“You have chosen wisely. Anyone can see that the admiral loves you beyond words. Together you will be strong.” Kolivan squeezes his shoulder. “And happy.”

Keith lays a hand on top of Kolivan’s, and he too squeezes. It’s affectionate, and he knows they’ll be closer, after today. “Thank you.”

~*~ 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy sheith day!!


End file.
